Sign of the Serpent
by ToxicCosmos
Summary: Those born under the sign of the Serpent are said to be the most blessed—and the most cursed.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Summary: **Cey has spent much of her life running from herself. Her travels have taken her as far as Cyrodiil and back - though not by choice. She will have to confront her past, and herself, as she struggles to fulfill her destiny as the Nerevarine.

**Note:** There are minor spoilers to the plotline of ESO contained within this chapter. If you've played the ESO intro or have read about the base plot at , then you're good.

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**Chapter 1: Prologue**

_Those born under the sign of the Serpent are said to be the most blessed—and the most cursed._

**3E417**

Cey sat at the edge of the long, wide vine that twisted out over the bank of the shore. Her legs were crossed beneath her as she listened to the gentle waves of the sea, hoping to one day sail across it and travel far from here.

Vos. An ancient farming village that would have been a very dull place if it weren't for the dock on which she sat. It made the town one of the few ports in Eastern Vvardenfell; and, more importantly, saved it from being the worst place for a child to live—namely herself.

She had been lucky though. Her parents owned the only tradehouse on the eastern side of the island, which meant that any traveler was more than likely to end up there at least once in passing.

Consequently, her childhood had been full of long days spent listening to the stories travelers told her; of far off islands made of nothing but living mushrooms-not unlike their tradehouse-of monstrous creatures that made Alit look like house pets, and of giant insects that were used as a form of travel. And that was just in Morrowind itself. She drank in these stories, as any child would, using them to forget her troubles.

Moving a leg over the side of the dock, she kicked at the water, relishing the cooling effect it had on her skin. She looked down, seeing the harsh reflection of the sun. It was too hot, always too hot for her. Her own reflection stared back. Her hair and eyes the color of ice, and a stark contrast to the dark ashen tone of her skin. She raised her palm, watching a fog of cold air emanate and evaporate from it, reminding her of all the reasons she was so disliked amongst the people of Vos.

There was a nudge at her side. She turned, almost startled to find Seht sitting on his haunches next to her. She smiled; he always seemed to know when she was beginning to fall too far into herself. He would always come, even without her call.

"You shouldn't do that." She said, trying to sound angry but failing. "They'll think I can't control you. You know how easily they scare." She was referring to the people in town.

Her parents had long ago insisted she learn how to control her magick, saying it would help her with her temper. It had annoyed her then; was it so wrong to be angry with how she was treated?

The children, the adults, almost everyone in Vos treated her like she had the blight. The adults never said anything, but they did caution their children to keep away from her. She was cursed-soul shriven-without a soul. All because of her appearance, the way she had been born.

Generations back, during the second era, her ancestor—a woman by the name of Astrid—had been sacrificed by worshipers of Molag Bal. Somehow, she had escaped his realm and found herself back on Nirn. But she hadn't returned whole; her soul had remained behind. It was said that the experience had drained the color from her hair and eyes, changing them from red to a frosted blue/white.

Ever since then, her descendants were sometimes born with a similar appearance. And those who were, inevitably proved to be heartless beings. It had been several generations since this had happened, but all knew the tale.

Who was she to think she would turn out any differently? The thought itself hurt so deeply that on occasion she couldn't help but lash out.

Most Dunmer are naturally gifted with fire, but her gift had always been ice. And she had used it to fight back and defend herself when she felt she had to. Of course, this had only reaffirmed the fears of the townspeople. Cey, the cursed one who could only conjure ice because that's what her heart was made of.

"No, don't say that." Her mother would soothe as she'd hold her. "The things they say aren't true."

"How would you know?" She replied one evening after a particularly difficult day. Her mother hadn't been cursed like her.

"The things they say, the things they do - how does it make you feel?" Her mother asked. Cey felt tears run down her cheek.

"It hurts." She answered simply. Her mother wiped at her face and tilted her chin up to meet her somber red gaze.

"That's how I know they're wrong. You feel. You aren't without a soul."

She had cried hard that night. Not because of the hurt that was inflicted upon her, but because she realized her mother was right. She wasn't what she was accused of being. She didn't have to be.

The next day her mother enlisted the help of Smokey, a Bosmer mage who lived in their inn. He was a talented sorcerer and helped her learn to control her natural abilities. How to control and soothe her anger.

It wasn't long before she began to show interest in other schools of magic. Illusion for the ability to go unnoticed, and Conjuration for the companionship. The townspeople didn't quite take to the summoning of Daedra. Though to be fair, the only one she had ever managed to summon had been Seht; and at the time he had been just a hatchling, barely 15 centimeters in height. But try and tell that to an entire village of irrationally scared children and their parents who already believed the worst of her.

Seht, now half a meter tall, nuzzled her neck. He was damp.

"It's too warm for you too, isn't it?" He made a low chirp of a sound, agreeing.

She placed her arm over him, pulling him close and lowering the temperature around them. Patterns of ice and snowflakes began to form on her skin, carrying frost with it as it spread. From her to him. A throaty purr resonated within his chest. She smiled and laughed as she stroked his crest.

"Well, if it isn't the freaks." She heard behind them. Her smile faded.

"Daren." She replied grimly, standing herself up on the dock and turning to face him, knowing what she would find—that same smug face he always had each an every time he tormented her.

"What a pair you two make. You must be the only Dunmer and Clannfear on Nirn that can't handle a little heat." He smirked.

She knew what he expected. He expected her to run, shy away and hide using her illusion spells. It wasn't fair. She just wanted to be left alone.

"Go away, Daren." She said. His grin grew even wider as he walked closer to her.

"Who do you think you are, S'wit. I go wherever I please." He was next to her now. She moved Seht behind her and tried not to look as intimidated as she felt.

"Leave us alone."

"What?" He asked with a sneer, a challenge. "Are you going to make me?" There was a slight chuckle in his voice.

"Daren, please, we haven't done anything to you, we jus-"

"That's where you're wrong." He looked amused at her use of the word 'please'. "You're taking up precious space." He stepped back from her and gestured around them. "You see, the guys and I want to go fishing but you're in the way." She looked around but saw no one.

"I don't see anyone."

"That's because you're in the way." He sighed, rolling his eyes, annoyed. She knew he was lying. This was by far not the best place for fishing. He just wanted to torment her. But she didn't know what to say so she kept quiet.

"N'wah! Are you even listening to me?" He grabbed her by the shirt and pushed her over the side of the dock.

For a moment all she could hear was the sound of water rushing around her as she sank in. Then she righted herself and stood, the water coming to just under her shoulders. Her long, and now soaked, hair obscured her vision. But the sound she heard jarred her. It was Seht, his rasped barking sounded anxious. She hurried to clear her eyes of hair and excess water.

She spotted him at the end of the dock, Daren moving towards him. There was fire in his eyes, and in his hand. She jumped out of the water and climbed onto the dock behind him.

"Seht." She called, gesturing to her side. He disappeared and reappeared beside her. Daren turned around with a chuckle, amused.

"I guess he can't handle a little heat, can he?"

Her eyes narrowed as she glared unflinchingly at him. It was one thing to push her around, but quite another to go after Seht. There was a brief look of confusion in his eyes as he regarded her. She was surprised at how a mere look could unsteady him. It made her smile. Seht growled nasaly at him, feeding off her emotions. She ran her hand down the back of his neck in approval.

"We can handle the heat just fine." She said, lifting her hand and turning its palm upward. Ice spread from the tips of her fingers down to her wrist, a thick fog enveloping it whole. "Perhaps it's you who can't handle the cold."

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This story will follow the Morrowind questline. Please feel free to offer constructive criticism and generally let me know what you think. :)

Also, I'd like to apologize in advance for the future inconsistency in my updates. ESO is just right around the corner. Needless to say, most of my days will be spent occupied with that. ;)


	2. Chapter 2: Arriving in Seyda Neen

**Summary: **Cey has spent much of her life running from herself. Her travels have taken her as far as Cyrodiil and back - though not by choice. She will have to confront her past, and herself, as she struggles to fulfill her destiny as the Nerevarine.

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**Chapter 2: Arriving in Seyda Neen**

_That which defines you will prove to be your undoing._

**3E427**

There was a voice in the dark, deep and far away. She heard it like a whisper too low, even amongst the silence.

"Wake Up!" She heard far more clearly this time. Her eyes were heavy, but she willed them open. As her vision came into focus, she recognized a Dunmer man standing before her.

"Stand up." He rasped. She felt his hands clasp at her elbow and forearm, pulling her up towards him. "There you go."

What was his name again? Jib? Jub? She couldn't remember.

"You were dreaming. What's your name?"

_Dreaming?_ Yes; maybe—but before that, before drifting off to sleep—she had been remembering.

"Cey." She replied. "Cey Varo." She realized this had been the only time she had spoken to him on their shared voyage. Her eyes wandered from his deep red ones to the planked walls of the dingy back room they had been kept in.

"Well, not even last night's storm could wake you." The boat creaked softly as it swayed. It was oddly calm and quiet.

"Where are we?" She asked, turning back to him.

"I heard them say we've reached Morrowind." Her breath hitched, catching in her throat. "I'm sure they'll let us go." He added hurriedly, mistaking her reaction for—for something else. She wasn't even sure what it was she was feeling.

"Are you sure they said Morrowind?" She asked. He must be mistaken. "Where, exactly?"

"Quiet, here comes the guard." Her gaze shifted towards the uncovered doorway, giving way to a view down the belly of the ship. Indeed there was an Imperial headed their way.

She watched him walk towards them; his pace was purposeful, his face barely suppressing a scowl. When he was just out of arms length, he stopped. Taking a quick glance about the room he then turned to the both of them. His gaze moved slowly over them, finally settling back on her face after a few moments. It was evident he didn't care for her.

"This is where you get off; come with me."

"Where are we?" She tried. He glared at her briefly before turning and walking off without a word. Apparently she wasn't to speak. A small snarl settled in the corner of her mouth. Normally, this would have been cause for confrontation, but considering she was so close to freedom, she settled on rolling her eyes and following quietly.

As they walked, she tried to recall their journey.

—

She had been asleep in her cell when the sounds of footsteps on uneven stone jarred her awake. The only reason the guards ever came so late at night was to take a prisoner away for 'interrogation'; occasionally, those they took never returned. When the guards settled on her cell, a look of disgust on their faces, she wondered which it would be—a beating or death.

They opened her cell and dragged her out, a guard holding tightly onto each arm.

"Going out on the town are we?" She joked. "Pity I haven't had time to clean myself up a bit." Neither of them replied. She knew that didn't bode well.

She struggled to keep up with their quick pace, her weakened legs feeling out of practice. How long had she been in that cell? A little more than a month? Maybe two. Her troubles didn't slow the two men however, who instead gripped tighter to her upper arms and picked her up off the floor. Silently they continued, the air growing more stale and rancid with every step. They were headed deeper into the prison; into the sewers.

"Where are we?" She asked. It had been nearly ten minutes and still they hadn't reached their destination. Something wasn't right.

"Quiet, prisoner." The guard to her left ordered.

_This is it._ She thought to herself. They were going to kill her and leave her corpse for the rats to pick over. She looked down at her hands. They had been stuffed into fingerless iron gloves, shackled together at the wrists. If she could just get out of them.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, looking to calm herself as much as possible in her current predicament. Her hands grew cold as the frost began to build within the gloves. Focusing, she felt it spread upwards to her wrists, to where her restraints were locked together. Colder and colder until she heard a low crack.

She looked up at her guards. They hadn't noticed.

Refocusing on the hinges of the iron gloves, it took another minute until she heard the sound again. One of the guards stopped. She feared he had heard and braced herself for whatever would come next. Instead, he let her go.

"This is it." He said, motioning to the short corridor before them. It came to a dead end just a few meters up.

"About time." The other guard replied, relaxing his grip on her. It was now or never.

Bracing her legs beneath her, she pushed her hands together momentarily before pulling them apart with as much force as she could muster.

It was enough. Her bonds snapped.

Quickly she brought her still-gloved hand into the nearest guard's face. He fell without so much as a whimper, the glove landing with a loud clank beside him. She took a second to rip off the other glove before she heard the other guard shift behind her. She pivoted as quickly as possible in his direction, her left hand now encased in smooth ice—but she wasn't quick enough. She barely caught a glimpse of him before the hilt of his sword connected with her skull and all went black.

—

When she awoke she was in a carriage, her hands once again bound together. To her left and right were two other prisoners. Across from them, five guards.

The ride was long, but she found she didn't mind it too much. She was still alive; it was enough for her at the moment. The carriage had no windows, so she couldn't say how long it took but eventually they arrived at a port. When they opened the carriage doors, she was greeted with the view of the ocean under the midnight sky. Then she was blindfolded and marched onto a boat.

"When we get to where we're going, you'll be set free. Don't do anything to screw that up." It was the last thing anyone said to her before they departed.

—

"Get yourself up on deck." The guard ordered, snapping her out of her thoughts. "And let's keep this as civil as possible." The tone in his voice made it clear her past transgressions had not been forgotten. At least, not yet.

She looked from him to the trap door that led up to deck. This would be the first time in months she'd have the sun on her face. As she opened the hatch and climbed up, she was surprised by the knot that formed in her stomach, and thankful for the light that blinded her.

When her eyes adjusted, the sight that greeted her made the knot tighten.

"This is where they want you." A second guard gestured off the ship. "Head down to the dock and he'll show you to the Census Office."

Her body felt numb. She should have guessed this is where they were sending her. By carriage and then by sea—that only led to so many places. But here—Vvardenfell—home is not what she had expected.

Glancing toward the dock she eyed the Imperial. He seemed impatient, beckoning her with one hand as he held what looked to be a clipboard in the other. As she made her way towards him, she took another look at her surroundings.

The last time she had passed through here, she had been fifteen. She remembered the cautious excitement she had felt at the prospect of crossing the sea—at the prospect of seeing the world.

She couldn't help but laugh at herself. The optimism she had had. True she had seen her fair share of Tamriel in the time she had been gone. From Cyrodiil to Black Marsh, to Elsweyr, and even Valenwood. And it wasn't until she had tried to book passage to the Summerset Isles that she had gotten into a bit of trouble. But now, ten years later, she was right back where she started.

She sighed heavily; thinking about that damned Altmer still had her fuming. If he hadn't given her so much trouble, she wouldn't have had to relieve him of a few items as recompense.

_And thusly landing yourself in prison._ She reminded herself.

She stopped before the guard. He barely spared her a glance.

"Great. I'm sure you'll fit right in." He drawled. "Follow me up to the office and they'll finish your release." She rolled her eyes but did as he said.

—

The room she found herself in was sparsely decorated save for a large bookcase at one end which held all manner of clutter. To her left stood two guards; they stared at her longer than was comfortable. She was a few meters away, but she didn't miss the flick of their eyes as they darted between her frosted irises and hair.

She took a deep breath and turned her attention before her. There stood an older Imperial man who had an air of 'bookkeeper' about him. She guessed he was the man she was meant to speak to.

"Ah yes, we've been expecting you." He said, glancing up from his paperwork. "You'll have to be recorded before you're officially released." He handed her his clipboard.

She read it over. It had her name, race, and gender listed. Just below that there was a list of skills ranging from short blades to conjuration. She sighed, ticking off the skills that applied to her before handing it back.

He lifted the paper, glancing at a second sheet below it before flipping back to the first. He did this several times. She figured he was comparing her answers with some sort of list.

"Very good." He said under his breath when he was done. "The letter that preceded you mentioned you were born under a certain sign. And what would that be?"

The question caught her off guard. Why would they need to know her sign? She swallowed hard.

"The Serpent..." She said hesitantly.

"Interesting." He replied, writing down her reply. She didn't like the way he eyed her as he did it. It made the knot in her stomach tighten even more. She averted her eyes from him, catching the quick look the guards shared with each other.

When he was done, he handed the clipboard back to her. "Now before I stamp these papers, make sure this information is correct."

She took them and looked it over. He had written 'Nightblade' below the boxes she had ticked earlier. For some reason that bothered her as well.

"It's correct." She replied grimly, handing it back to him. He said nothing as he set the parchment on the desk. Turning, he took a stamp from a small chest and pressed it into a pad of red ink and then onto the parchment. He blew on it briefly until it dried, then rolled it up and placed it into her hand.

"Show your papers to the Captain when you exit to get your release fee." She nodded and left the room, passing the two guards without so much as a curt nod on her way out.

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**A/N:** I'm sorry this took so long. I spent a good two months playing ESO before deciding to give that a break and concentrate on more important things (read: school &amp; internet). In my free time I've been playing Skyrim, so that too has taken away from writing this.

On that note, if you're at all interested in other TES games, I've started a blog for my OC characters. ATM it's focused on my Skyrim OC, but I plan to continue to post about all my characters as I play them—including these chapters. ** signoftheserpent tumblr com**

Coming up: less scripted chapters as Cey ventures out on her own!


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